Set Fire To The Third Bar
by leobrat
Summary: Neela Rosgotra and Doug Ross Could they be any more of a cliche?


**Title:** Set Fire To The Third Bar  
**Author:** leobrat  
**Characters:** Neela Rosgotra/Doug Ross  
**Word Count:** 3836

**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Very AU Doug/Neela smut. Slightly crack-y. (Could they be any more of a cliche?)  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.  
**Notes:** A HUGE thank you to shealynn 88 for beta-ing a fandom she's not all that familiar with. Also, I just googled the Martini Ranch. If it's not all that google hyped it up to be, insert the swankiest Chi-town bar of your choice.

She never should have come. Waste of a dress, Neela noted, calculating the grocery money she had set aside for her silk gold evening gown. Everyone in the ER had received an embossed invitation to the Joshua Carter Family Clinic's grand opening. Abby had convinced her to go, but Abby and even Luka had cancelled at the last moment when little Joe came down with the flu. Ray was half in the bag and flirting with every other woman in the room, not even glancing her way once. She had seen Tony Gates once or twice, but he almost seemed to be avoiding her. Which was fine as far as Neela was concerned, because she still wasn't so sure what the hell she was supposed to be feeling about him.

And Ray.

And Michael.

The evening had been...well, as close to a star-studded event as Neela would ever get. Dr. Carter and his investors had spared no expense, not on their beautiful new hospital, nor on that evening's lavish party. The party was held in the clinic's penthouse level ballroom with its wraparound terrace and glass-walled view of the lake on three sides. Dr. Carter had spoken eloquently on his views on modern

medicine, and his wish for the clinic's success in Chicago. His new fiancee, Makemba Likasu, brought tears to the eyes of everyone in the room as she spoke of medical and social warfare in the Congo, which was the reason for the fund-raiser that evening. Every penny of the ticket prices was going towards medical care for African orphans.

And it was beautiful- the room, the flowers, the twenty-three piece big band orchestra- but Neela felt so disconnected from it all. This would be a little girl's Cinderella fantasy with someone to share it, but tonight...

Haleh and Chuny hadn't stopped dancing all night. So, she was sitting at her empty banquet table with the five hundred dollar flower arrangement. And her half-eaten, one hundred fifty dollar dinner plate. And her third glass of three hundred dollar champagne. And her one hundred dollar, without tip, artfully curled upswept hair. And of course, the blasted dress that Abby had insisted she buy. She felt vaguely regal trying it on in the store, with its plunging neck and back and high, high slit up her left leg. But now, she felt completely ridiculous. And the '+1' on her invitation that just seemed to be mocking her.

Neela rose and headed out onto the terrace. The fresh air was unseasonably warm, and sweeter and cooler up here than down in the dusty city. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. And when she finally opened her eyes...How had she not seen _him_ before?

He never should have come. Waste of a tux-rental. He must have been crazy when he rsvp'd, but the Joshua Carter Family Clinic's grand opening fell on one of his off-weekends with his girls, and he had been hit with some bizarre nostalgia for Chicago. And now he could see...he wasn't missing much. There were a few familiar, friendly faces that evening- and Weaver- but it was clearly no longer a place he belonged.

He didn't know what he expected to see...Mark was gone, and he knew Carol wasn't going to be there, but somehow, he thought he might see Benton and Lewis show up. The old gang, for old time's sake. For whatever the hell that was worth.

So, he had escaped to the wraparound terrace and the somewhat surreally beautiful view of the lake at night, of course with a tumbler of whiskey, his old friend.

He never got to enjoy this view of Chicago, when he had lived there. No time between patients and Carol and patients and women and patients and _living_. He had always thought that some day, he would save up enough for a place on the lake. Now that he could afford one, the thought of all that stillness unnerved him.

But still, it was nice to look at, from this tower-top view. And solitude was beginning to suit him, at this stage of the game.

_Mid-life_.

Forty-five.

Damn it, he never thought he'd live to see the day. But the grey that had shaded his temples when he'd left County nearly peppered his entire head now. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened. And the...the charm...or whatever it was that women had found irresistible for so many years had waned, or maybe he had chosen to turn it off. After Carol had left him- and remarried within a year- he had been somewhat seclusive, not going out, not meeting women, not plagued by any of the vices of his twenties and thirties. It had seemed pretty juvenile and...empty.  
So, in the middle of a black-tie party, dressed to the nines, with a room full of women all at least a sheet or two to the wind, he was hiding outside on the terrace, nursing a watery whiskey, and his middle-aged ego. It was moments like this when he wished he still smoked.  
And then he saw her. She was beautiful, with her glowing honey-colored skin and gleaming black hair and those inky black eyes that pulled him in from yards away. And young, definitely under thirty. And the body, generously curved and soft-looking in every place a man would want to touch. But it was something else- her obvious boredom at the lavishness inside. The tilt to her pert nose and disillusionment in her eyes. And the slight air of sadness about her, that he had somehow never been able to resist in women.

And just like that, Doug Ross was a randy twenty-nine year old bachelor of Chicago again.

He watched her. Unobserved, it barely occurred to him that he was walking towards her silently, never tearing his gaze from her form. When she tilted her head back and breathed deeply the night air with her eyes closed, Doug couldn't help undressing her in his mind and picturing what she might look like when she came- old habits did die hard, after all. He stopped just two feet away from her, and just watched her. She was still and quiet and tense- he could tell- and just like the lake, her stillness unnerved him. But still, she was nice to look at (_more than nice_), from this tower-top view. And started to think...maybe he wasn't quite ready for solitude just yet.

When her eyes opened and met his, they went wide with surprise. Doug couldn't help but smile. He allowed the whiskey to soften his voice. "Hello."

Two hours and four martinis later, Neela was standing behind the legendary Doug Ross as he hailed a cab in front of the Martini Ranch. That's why he had looked so familiar, she had seen his photograph in the old staff face books in the breakroom that had preceded her, and were updated about once a century. He was infamous with the nurses, and Neela had to say, more sinfully sexy than a twelve-year-old picture and all the hospital gossip could convey.

He was attracted to her and Neela wasn't a fool. She had heard the stories, not all of which she could be sure were true, but even so, he had the mark of a practiced womanizer. It was all in the way he leaned towards her when he was speaking, as if everything he said was an intimate secret. In the way that he squinted at everything, like he spent all of his time behind closed curtains. Still, she couldn't help the flutter in her stomach as he peered down at her with his soft bedroom eyes. She couldn't help the way his husky laughter sent shivers down her spine, or the electricity she felt in the tips of her toes when his hand brushed against hers. And his hands. He had those great physicians' hands- long lean fingers, strong and steady. He was sexy, and smart, and he wanted her.

And Neela wanted him. In a way she hadn't wanted someone since Michael, which was a thought she didn't particularly care to dwell on.

And so, as he walked her out to the sidewalk, to hail her a cab for her home and one for himself to get to his hotel room, Neela studied Doug's handsome profile, his sensual mouth, the long curled eyelashes that should have served to make him look feminine but only heightened his very masculine beauty. And she didn't want to think any more.

She boldly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the sidewalk, for all the world of 3 a.m. to see. If he was at all surprised, it didn't show. He just pulled her into the cab and held her tightly. Neela supposed she was a bit old to be making out in the backseat like a teenager, but God, she wanted to. He made no move in the cab, past tenderly stroking her face and a lazy, sexy smile, but merely directed the driver the quickest route to his hotel.

When they reached the hotel, Neela's heart started to beat a little wildly. She had never done this before. Two years ago, she had never had an impetuous action in her life, but now a one night stand (because that's all this could ever be) was certainly the least of her sins, but some adolescent embarrassment at the naughtiness of it all sent a flush through her cheeks. She glanced at Doug. He had obviously done this before. Neela wondered how many times, but felt none of the jealous possessiveness she sometimes got when Ray mouthed off story after story about his latest floozy.

In his room, though, whatever waning moxy and confidence that had been carrying her through the evening seemed to abandon her totally, with the click of the door shutting.

This was really happening.

But Doug didn't seem to be in any rush, taking off his jacket and tossing it over a chair, and loosening his tie. He finally looked back at her, grinning crookedly. "Can I offer you a brandy?"

"No, I think I'm fine," her voice sounded hoarse to her, barely above a whisper. That, he noticed.

"Neela, are you okay?" He began walking towards her, but she held out a hand to stop him.

If she was going to do this, it was on her terms. With a deep breath and her eyes lowered, she put her hands behind her back. The noise of her zipper being pulled down seemed to take over the room, but Neela heard Doug's swift, soft intake of breath. Her pulse was pounding at the base of her throat, she was sure he'd noticed. Doctors took stock of such things in such situations. But she reached for the straps of her gown, and...

What was stopping her? She held her gown up with trembling fingers, unsure. _He surely must think I'm a freak by now._

And then she saw his large, fine physician's hands come up to cover her own. He was standing so close to her, she could see his powerful body perfectly aligned with her own. He spoke, his lips a hair's breadth away from the soft shell of her ear. "Neela?" His voice was so low, practically a growl, barely a whisper. "Neela, you don't have to do this. We can go downstairs, I'll take you home."

"Doug..." For God's sake, why was she crying? There was no emotional baggage, other than a passing fancy when she had glimpsed his picture in the breakroom, playing 'Kiss or Dismiss' with Abby. He wasn't Michael, he wasn't Ray, he wasn't even Tony Gates. But somehow...he was all three...and still so deliciously mysterious that it gave her the freedom to be whoever she wanted to be. And that was...terrifying.

She turned her face into his, kissing his jaw.  
She thought she heard soft protests from him, "No, sweetheart, we don't have to do this, it's okay..." But that all ended when she reached his mouth. This man was kissing her as she had never been kissed before. She thought it entirely possible that he had invented kissing- and not just because of his gray hair.

His hands were still resting lightly on her shoulders, but she was practically mauling him, stroking his face, reaching around to cup the back of his neck, throwing  
her arms over his shoulders. He kept his kissing slow, leisurely, as if he were just deliberately teasing her. Finally, he pulled his head back, his mouth just out of her reach, breaking their kiss with a whimper from her and a chuckle from him. He smoothed one glossy black curl away from her forehead. "You sure about this, sweetheart?"

She stepped away from him, finally letting her dress drop to the floor. She stepped out of her spiked heels as well, finally standing naked in front of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life. Barefoot, she came up to just below his shoulder.

Ooh, there was that smile again. That GQ-Dean Martin smile that she was almost positive that no woman would ever be able to resist.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "You're adorable."

"You're...tall."

He laughed one more time, and she was beginning to think that his laugh was the sexiest thing about him, but then he started to kiss her again. At first so softly, rubbing his lips back and forth across her own, before finally dipping inside and tasting her. Her hands were everywhere-  
tangled in his hair, exploring the warm, tanned skin exposed by the top three open buttons on his shirt, but his hands stayed chastely on her face until finally she moaned, "Doug, _please_."

He didn't laugh at her this time, just scooped her up in his arms- she never thought men actually did that in this day and age- and laid her down on the bed, dragging down her lacy black thong as he stood up, playfully biting the inside of her left thigh. She yelped in a sudden fit of modesty, but all thoughts flew out of her head as he unbuttoned his shirt.

_God._

He didn't have those perfectly sculpted gym muscles, but he was lean and hard, like a man who...like a _man_. He covered her body with ease and grace, and Neela closed her eyes and his hands and lips and tongue were _everywhere_. When kissed the inside of her wrist, her toes curled. When he nibbled gently across her stomach- murmuring, "you're _so_ soft, sweetheart"- she felt her whole face flush up to her hairline. When she saw his dark head slowly press between her thighs...she thought her heart would pound right out of her chest. This man clearly _had_ invented kissing- every kind of kissing. Neela felt she could literally float right off the bed as he stroked her with his tongue- long, sensuous licks, grazing his teeth against the most delicate parts of her and Neela swore she could hear him _talking_ to her, almost coaxing her to come. And when she did climax, he clasped her buttocks and held her tightly to his lips, never stopping that sinful mouth of his.  
And when she finally came down off that high, he was stretched out next to her, finally as naked as she. And grinning that, wide, self-satisfied, cocky smile of his. "You're really interesting when you come," he said, casually. Too casually.

"In-_interesting?_?" She was still a bit out of breath. "What do you mean, _interesting_?" She didn't know whether to be offended, or embarrassed, or both.  
He chuckled again, and now Neela wasn't sure if she found it sexy or infuriating. "Yes, interesting. Pretty." He brushed a damp lock of hair from her forehead, and chuckled again. Definitely sexy. "Unpracticed. Unrehearsed." Neela noticed that he was flipping a foil packet between his fingers. She grabbed it out of his hands.

"Trust me, Dr. Ross," she said, in her best Bond girl voice. "I'm no blushing virgin." His eyebrows shot up a little in surprise, but his eyes held the glint of the very devil. Neela pushed him over, licking and sucking at the pulse point in his neck, and he let her take the lead, lightly running his hands up and down her back. She snaked her hand down the flat plane of his stomach, boldly grabbing his cock, while shyly keeping her eyes averted. She couldn't help but gasp a little at length and girth of him- _glad to see the man lives up to the legend_- and he let out another of those sexy, infuriating chuckles. With more agility than she knew she had outside of the trauma room, Neela unwrapped the condom and rolled it onto him, and was pleased when she heard his low, guttural groan.

He kissed Neela softly, and then swiftly flipped her back over, settling between her legs. Neela could feel his powerful weight resting on her belly. "Now, Dr...Rose-go-tra," he said, apologetically smiling as if he knew he was butchering her name, but frankly, Neela was surprised he remembered it at all. "What do you say we..." He grinned broadly as she gasped when he teased her entrance with the very tip of his cock.

_Damn. If he wasn't so cute, I'd probably want to kill him right now._

"Try to..." God, he was entering her so slowly, sliding inch by excruciating, glorious inch. "Get to know each other..." Neela could hardly believe there was more of him to come, but she wrapped her legs around his hips and dug in tight. "A little bit better?" Buried to the hilt, Doug tilted his hips and continued to torment her with slow, shallow thrusts, positioned just so to bring friction right to her clit. He held her so still, while every nerve in her body hummed alive, trembling with the need to lose control, and when she couldn't take it any more, Neela pushed at his shoulders and he rolled himself onto his back, allowing her to slide down on him and impale herself fully.  
"Ah...yes," she moaned, leaning back and swiveling her hips. Doug's eyes rolled back and he took her hands, giving her leverage to do as she pleased. And she pleased them both, immensely. She rode him recklessly, finally letting her body and her mind lose control as she hadn't in a long time...maybe never. When she collapsed on his chest, after her second powerful, mind-numbing climax, he slipped out of her, still hard, and rolled her onto her stomach. Pulling her hips up, he finally entered her swiftly and fully, setting his own pace, and leaving no room for compromise. When she felt a third orgasm building, tiny racking tremors all over her body, Neela didn't think it was possible. She thought it only happened in romance novels, but he slipped a hand down the front of her and teased her with his longest finger as he thrust into her from behind, making sure that when he finally came, she was right there with him; this time, she called out his name, and heard him growl hers into her neck.

When it was over, she was boneless and sated, and he cradled her against his chest. And it seemed  
life could not get any better.

"Girl, you are glowing!" Chuny chided Neela with a knowing look Monday morning.  
"What are you talking about?"

"Oh please, everyone saw you leave with Dr. Ross Friday night!"

And she hadn't thought anyone noticed her at all.

"That is- none of...anyone's business," but Neela couldn't deny the smile on her face. Ah, the restorative powers of great sex.

"Girl, you're going to have to tell us all about your night with Doug Ross!" Haleh was a little louder than Chuny, and half the waiting area heard her, and now Neela was blushing.

"Nee-_la_," Jerry winked at her, and Neela grabbed the nearest chart. Time to see about those patients, and have every co-worker stop discussing her sex life...to her face, at least.

"Who's Doug Ross?" Ray asked, as she passed him in the hallway, but she just walked past. _That_ was not a conversation she was having now, at the beginning of a twelve hour shift, not with this stupid grin on her face.

"Oh, so he's that old guy you hooked up with at the Carter party." Neela turned when she heard the slightly bitter note in Ray's sarcasm.

"I didn't hook up with any old guy," Neela said calmly, striding back to Ray. She smiled innocently. If Doug Ross was old, Ray Barnett was in junior high.

Ray rolled his eyes. "The dude with the grey hair. You left with him a little after one."  
Neela continued to smile. "Oh. Dr. Ross, you mean."  
Ray rolled his eyes...further. "What the hell, Neela, so what are you saying? Nothing happened?"

Neela couldn't help but chuckle. She patted Ray on the arm, and turned away, before he could see the full extent of her wide grin, which actually stopped Tony Gates in his path as she passed him by.

Ah, the restorative powers of great sex.

Doug nursed his whiskey and water at the airport bar as he waited for his plane. He thought about the patients he had lined up this coming week, his next weekend with the girls (he was taking them Christmas shopping in the city), and Neela Rosgotra's luscious naked body, flush with desire.

So, he wasn't twenty-nine any more. He still had a lot of life ahead of him, and he could do it even better now. When he _was_ in his twenties, he probably wouldn't have even noticed a Neela- he probably would have been too distracted by a buxom blonde. Stupid. He had the skill to coax out the fiery passion she barely concealed below her ladylike demeanor, and the maturity to know that it was worth it.

He had entertained the thought of stopping by County on his way to the airport, but didn't know quite what he would have said. "I'll call you?" He had never been very good at that, and didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep. He had learned that lesson the hard way, and he didn't want to put her through that, either. Neela was beautiful, she was smart, she had the world going for her- she was perfect. She didn't need a halfway-old man clumsily dragging her into a long-distance relationship (when he had never managed a short-distance relationship well, as it was.)

And a relationship- well, he didn't know if that was a road he would ever be ready for again, but Neela Rosgotra had stirred something in Doug that he had thought was long dead. And even at his age, you never stop learning.

Ah, the restorative powers of great sex.


End file.
